


Exigency

by Ori (magnetium)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Plug, Bondage, Dom/sub, Future Fic, Gags, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:51:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1528625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetium/pseuds/Ori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse into the Stiles and Derek of the future. The darkness from the nogitsune never truly left Stiles, but it comes out in other ways now--a need for pain, subjugation, an intensity that regular life can't give him. Derek's willing to give him what he needs, but only if he can remain in control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exigency

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bettiebloodshed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettiebloodshed/gifts).



> A birthday gift for the lovely Linds, who inspires me to greater heights every day.

Derek had taken care to make sure the bit that held Stiles' mouth open wasn't too tight.

The first time they'd done this with the bit, it had been cinched too tightly, pressing painfully into the sides of Stiles' mouth and leaving dark red marks that turned briefly into bruises before fading a week later. Stiles hadn't safeworded—might have even enjoyed it—but Derek didn't like causing pain or marks that weren't intentional. On nights like these, when Stiles came over without the customary DVD and bag of microwave popcorn, when he arrived with nothing but the clothes on his back and left them folded by the door as Derek instructed, when he came and knelt in the bedroom to wait with closed eyes and measured breath—Derek wanted every stripe and bruise on Stiles' body to be the result of his careful forethought. Just like he wanted to control when Stiles felt pain, when he cried out in pleasure, and when he reached orgasm. This might be a game for them, but that didn't mean that Derek didn't take it seriously.

So the bit was just tight enough to hold his mouth open and no tighter. Stiles was still kneeling in the center of the room, but Derek had been silently trussing him up for the last thirty minutes, and now his pale skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat from the exertion of holding himself upright. Leather straps kept his arms folded tightly against his back, while a thick leather collar connected his neck to the base of his cock with a short metal chain, forcing him to keep his head lowered. A steel spreader bar kept his ankles splayed out, but another leather strap pulled his knees together. There was no good position to keep his balance, and none of his limbs were available to help him. Derek stood back to admire the way his ass clenched and relaxed as he swayed slightly, his abdominal muscles struggling to keep him from faceplanting. A red rubber ball clenched in one hand signalled that he was still doing okay. If he dropped it, the scene would end. It was their version of a safeword, when Stiles had something filling up his mouth.

It had taken them a long time to get to this point—just dating had been hard enough, something Derek had never expected Stiles to want, even after the few encounters they'd had before Stiles left for college. After the nogitsune had released him, Stiles had grown a bit more aggressive, with a rough edge he'd never had before. When they were alone, Stiles had started initiating things—just kissing at first, then a hand down Derek's pants, his manner always riding the line between hesitant and determined, like he was forcing himself to do something that frightened him.

When Stiles had headed off to his out-of-state school, Derek watched him go with a mixture of disappointment and relief. At college, Stiles could meet someone better, someone who wasn't damaged and much older than him and wrapped up in his past in a way he could never forget. Derek had been sure that Stiles would come home with a boyfriend over the summer, someone he knew from school, a relationship much healthier than anything Derek could ever offer. But he hadn't. He'd come home alone every time, unattached and meeting Derek's eyes with an unreadable expression when they saw each other.

With Stiles tied up just the way he wanted him, Derek now strode over to his closet and started to strip his own clothes off at a leisurely pace. He knew Stiles could see him from where he was, knew he'd be watching—there was no rule against it, nothing to prevent Stiles from tracking every movement as he removed his shirt, his jeans, his boxers… finally rolling on a thick, black cock ring as a final step. He gave himself a few absent strokes after putting it on, earning a strangled whimper from Stiles. He smiled and walked back over, putting a hand on Stiles' head. Then he gripped his hair tight, pulling his head back (and, by extension, his cock on the other end of the chain) and holding him up. Stiles groaned, first in pain and then in grateful relief, his muscles finally relaxing for a minute as Derek held him upright by his scalp.

"You need water?" Derek's voice was low, soothing. Stiles made a noise of agreement in his throat and Derek let him go for a moment to retrieve the water bottle and a straw. The bit was a quick-release style, swinging out easily so that Stiles could wrap his lips around the straw as Derek put it in front of his mouth, his other hand holding Stiles at the shoulder to balance him. He drank in a series of rapid swallows until Derek took it away and let out a grateful breath, smiling.

"Green," he murmured, and Derek nodded, snapping the rubber bit back into place and letting go of his shoulder. Stiles wouldn't last too much longer before falling forward, but that was fine—the next thing on his list didn't involve Stiles being upright, anyway.

Their relationship had remained friendly but platonic while Stiles was away, seeing each other briefly whenever Stiles was home for a holiday, but never more than a few minutes alone, never long enough for him to decipher that look in Stiles' eyes. Eventually he'd gotten used to ignoring the tug in his belly when he saw Stiles, gotten used to forcing himself to think of other things when thoughts of Stiles bubbled back up. Even if Stiles didn't date in college, he'd come home a man, all grown up and long over the trysts of his childhood. 

When Stiles finished school, he'd moved back home to join the police force, in the wake of his dad's retirement. His work kept him busy and Derek had left him to it, occupied with his own business. It wasn't until a series of gruesome animal attacks had taken place on the outskirts of town that they'd had a real conversation again—although it started out closer to an interrogation, Stiles convinced that Derek knew who was responsible. Those attacks had turned out to be the work of an omega, abused by his former pack to the point of insanity. When the entire episode had come to a bloody end (Stiles' first and only kill in the line of duty so far), he'd come to apologize to Derek for not believing him and the apology had turned into an offer of dinner. One dinner had turned into few more, then going out to movies—first at the theater and later at Derek's place, until they were getting together Friday nights without even thinking about it, without any plans besides just being together. Derek had kept his hands to himself, trying to make himself be content with the pleasure of Stiles' company, until finally Stiles had just crawled into his lap and kissed him one night, his heart jackhammering loudly like he thought Derek might throw him off. From then on, their Friday nights involved a lot more staying in.

Now that Stiles was hydrated again, Derek walked over to the dresser for his next tool. He heard the sharp, interested intake of breath when he opened the bottom drawer—their drawer, the one that didn't hold clothes. From their selection, he picked out a thick black plug, tapered for easy insertion. The width at the base was enough to cause serious discomfort if he didn't prepare Stiles well enough. He plucked out a bottle of long-lasting lube and carried it back over with the plug, putting them on the floor before crouching down beside Stiles.

"I'm going to bring you over to the wall, okay?" He put an arm across Stiles' chest and one behind the back of his thighs, waiting for Stiles to nod in understanding before he started lifting him. Stiles relaxed against Derek as he moved him a few feet forward, settling him back down and letting him rest his forehead against the wall.

"Good, Stiles. Lean forward and relax." Derek stroked a lubed-up finger between his cheeks, slicking him up a little before starting to work it in. He smiled at the breathy moan Stiles let out around the bit. "You look so good when you're tied up for me like this. All mine." The finger slid home and Stiles' hips canted backwards as he whined, his muscles squeezing around Derek's finger tightly.

He worked it slowly in and out for a minute, pleased with how relaxed and pliant Stiles went for him, trusting Derek not to give him anymore than he could handle. It hadn't been like this from the start. Even after they'd been together a year and had been playing these kinds of games for half that time, Stiles hadn't always been able to give his trust easily, and Derek hadn't known how to ask for it. Although some of the happy, fun-loving boy had come back after the nogitsune released him, other parts of him had never been the same. And the darkness he saw every day at his job now seemed to bring back echoes of things he'd tried to bury while he was away at college. Despite his adamance that he wanted this from Derek, it hadn't been easy for him to take it at first.

At the moment, however, he was taking each additional finger with ease, the only tension in his body from the pleasured arch of his back as Derek worked him open, stretching him just enough to make the plug bearable. When Stiles was able to take three fingers without trouble, Derek drew them out and reached for the plug. "Okay, time for the plug. This is going to be much bigger. It'll stretch you open nice and wide for me." He ran his hand down Stiles' back, cupping each of his cheeks in turn as Stiles moaned in agreement, trying to pull his legs apart for Derek but prevented by the leather strap around his knees.

Derek laughed. "No, I want you to keep them together for now. Just bend down, get your ass up in the air for me." He helped Stiles move his head all the way down, so his forehead rested against the carpet, his ass presented perfectly beneath his tied arms. Even with all the bondage, the way the strap kept his legs together made him look rather virginal.

"Now take a few deep breaths." Derek spread a generous amount of lube around on the plug and pressed the tip against Stiles' entrance, letting him feel its weight and girth. "Relax, just like before. Good boy." He started putting it in, twisting it and going slowly—a few times letting Stiles push it back out a little before he slid it further in. He could see Stiles clamping his teeth around the bit as he made noises of mingled pain and pleasure.

When the plug was three-quarters of the way inside Stiles, Derek paused to let him adjust, carefully holding the plug in one hand and Stiles' hip with the other. Stiles was panting hard around the length of rubber in his mouth, his brow furrowed in what looked like intense concentration. Derek tapped the fist holding the red ball and asked, "Green?" Stiles nodded quickly and squeezed the ball.

"Good." Without hesitation, Derek pushed the plug the rest of the way in, until the thickest part had disappeared inside Stiles with a soft _pop_. Stiles' moaning turned into a brief scream and his legs pulled hard on the leather straps, straining against the material to spread out. Derek gave him a minute, stroking his own cock slowly as he watched Stiles writhe and struggle.

When he quieted down, Derek gave the plug a few twists, drawing broken sobs from Stiles, who was still clutching the ball tightly. "Perfect," he murmured, pressing a kiss against the bump of Stiles' tailbone. "You're perfect. Stay just like that."

He got up and returned to the drawer, finding the trip a little harder now that his cock was heavy and dripping between his legs. This time he took out the riding crop. It was a compact model, small and made of high quality black leather. He snapped it a few times in the air so Stiles could hear it.

It had taken serious pain to convince Stiles he could trust Derek. From any other perspective, it would have seemed strange, but their breakthrough hadn't come until a particularly rough session, when Stiles had asked to be whipped. He'd brought the tool himself—a whip with nine tails—and asked Derek to make him bleed. Derek had looked into his eyes, listened to the beat of his heart, and agreed. That night he'd taken Stiles right up to the edge of what he could endure, until he was so far into the pain that he was beyond it, his mind flying far away from everything down below. Derek had watched for it, waited until Stiles sagged in his restraints, every muscle going slack with release. Then he'd carefully untied him and dressed his wounds, putting him to bed and stroking his hair until he returned to himself. When those golden eyes had opened back up and seen Derek, _really_ seen him, there was something new in them. A peace that hadn't existed before.

Stiles wouldn't bleed tonight, though. That wasn't something he was willing to do every time, and Stiles didn't ask him to. Bracing himself now behind Stiles, he took a moment to admire the view, running the tip of the crop over the flared base of the plug and tapping it a few times. Stiles gave a strangled moan each time, twitching hard. Then Derek raised the crop, adjusting his grip to make sure it would fall exactly where he wanted it.

The first strike hit his skin with a slap, a red line forming in its wake across Stiles' ass, right over the plug. Stiles jerked and moaned, his hips lifting to chase the pain. Derek could see that he was hard now, his cock rubbing against the chain that hung down from his neck. He paused for a beat, then struck him again, leaving another stripe beside the first one. Stiles yelped something that might have been his name, words garbled around the bit.

He started a slow rhythm, alternating softer smacks with sudden, hard strokes that left Stiles shaking and screaming against the carpet. Every time he hit him, Derek's eyes darted down to the ball in Stiles' hand, but his fingers never so much as loosened on it. He could tell Stiles was starting to adjust to the size of the plug now; he could see it sliding a little in him every time the crop hit it, moving the widest part just enough to really make him feel it. He was making harsh groaning noises every time, bucking backward as though meeting a thrust.

After several minutes with the crop, Stiles' skin was bright red and starting to bruise. Derek shifted his target area, hitting Stiles on the back of his thighs, until they were shaking and he was covered in sweat again. Then he set it aside and knelt down beside him, running his fingers across the abused skin.

"You're so beautiful." The words were a soft murmur as he touched him, his other hand snaking around to fist Stiles' cock loosely. He knew after a session with the crop, Stiles would be close, so he didn't stroke him, instead holding him possessively. "You take everything I give you like such a good boy. Such a good slut for me, Stiles." Stiles let out a loud, shaky breath and pushed back against Derek's hand on his ass.

"Do you want to ask me something? Should I take the bit out so you can ask?" Derek watched as Stiles grimaced, struggling with himself, then nodded. He opened red, wet eyes and looked back at Derek, fire and need lighting them up so brightly that they nearly rivalled the natural light of a werewolf's eyes.

"Okay, come here." Derek put an arm around Stiles' chest again and pulled him back up from the floor, letting him lean back against Derek's chest. Derek's cock nestled against the base of the plug and he rolled his hips, making Stiles gasp. With his free hand, he unhinged the bit and pulled it from Stiles' mouth, turning his head so he could kiss him before letting Stiles speak.

"What do you want to ask me, Stiles?"

" _Please_." Stiles' voice was rough and broken, an audible reflection of what Derek had seen in his eyes. "I want to come, Derek, please let me come. I—I almost did it when you were hitting me, the plug started moving a little and I just—god, please let me come and I'll do whatever you want, anything at all."

"Anything, hm?" It was the kind of promise Stiles could make in a scene, protected by the safeword. Derek smiled and nipped at his neck. "All I want is to make you _feel_ , Stiles. Feel pain, feel pleasure… but there is one thing you haven't felt yet tonight." He licked at the spot on Stiles' neck he'd just left a little mark on, light enough that it would fade by the time he went back to work. "You haven't felt me inside you. Do you want that?"

"Yes, yes please, I want you in me, I need you, Derek, need you so bad." Stiles was starting to babble, leaning his head back on Derek so that the chain pulled taught on his cock. "Take me, please, fill me up."

Derek felt close himself, just from the way Stiles was begging for him. He tried to control his voice, but it was rough and a little shaky with arousal as he asked, "Yeah? You want me in here instead of this thing?" He let go of Stiles' cock and reached between them, gripping the plug and twisting it.

" _Yes_ , please, _please_ fuck me..."

"Okay, hold on." Derek pressed a kiss against the side of Stiles' mouth as he pulled gently, coaxing the plug out. "And remember, I haven't told you to come yet."

"Fuck, okay, yeah, I won't, I just—Derek?" Stiles' voice was suddenly clearer when he said Derek's name, and Derek paused, meeting his eyes. "Can you put the bit back in?"

Derek grinned. "Yes. Open up." He swung the bit back into Stiles' mouth, settling it back into place just as he drew the widest part of the plug out. Stiles keened wordlessly and bit down on the rubber.

The rest of the plug came out easily. Derek set it aside, unable to resist replacing it with his fingers for a moment, feeling how stretched and open Stiles felt around them. Stiles' breath stuttered as Derek fingered him, groaning something that sounded like a plea.

"I know…" Derek pulled his fingers out and grabbed the lube, slicking himself up. He lined up his cock, dropping his chin to breathe hotly against Stiles' ear as he muttered, "I'm going to give you what you want. Just hang on for me. You're doing good."

Going slowly wasn't a necessity, not with Stiles so thoroughly prepped. Derek pushed in, letting out a huge gust of air when he felt Stiles around him, gripping him in a hot, wet embrace. "Fuck." He drew back out halfway, then slammed back in hard, whispering low as he told him, "I'm going to fuck you so hard you, Stiles. And you're going to take all of it, aren't you? Every inch of me filling you up, making you mine."

He reached down and unbuckled the strap around Stiles' knees, pushing them apart and pressing him up against the wall again. "Now spread your legs for me like a good little bitch." Stiles spread them eagerly, moaning and pushing back on Derek's cock. This time his head wasn't bent, his cheek pressed against the wall, so the chain pulled hard on him. Derek reached around to squeeze his tortured cock, rolling his thumb around on the head as he worked into a good rhythm with his hips, thrusting into Stiles roughly.

Stiles was openly sobbing now, his body shaking as he tried to hold back. Each time Derek's thumb swiped the head of his cock, he convulsed and drew in a harsh breath. It was time to give him permission, or risk making him unable to obey. He murmured, "Okay, Stiles. Go ahead. Come for me," and tightened his fist around Stiles' cock, stroking him in long twists.

The immediacy of Stiles' orgasm was impressive. He seemed to release at the exact moment Derek said it, his mouth opening wide around the bit and his back arching as he came with a scream, painting the wall with stripes of white. Muscles tightened and rippled around Derek's cock, urging him on as he fucked Stiles against the wet patch they were making on the plaster. A minute later, he came, too, grasping Stiles' hip with a grip hard enough to bruise as he shot his load inside him. His eyes glowed red beneath his closed eyelids.

When he'd finished, Derek pressed his face against Stiles' shoulder blade, trying to catch his breath. He didn't take off his own cock ring until he'd removed the bit and worked open the buckle on the leather straps around Stiles' arms, loosening it until the bonds fells off. "Careful," he cautioned, his voice quiet and drained. "They're going to be stiff. Go slow." He forced himself to open his eyes, pulling his weight back from Stiles as he reached up to take the collar off, too.

Stiles' hand stopped him, his long, thin fingers curling around Derek's. "Wait." He turned slightly, looking back at Derek. His eyes were half-lidded, a sleepy smile on his lips, although Derek could see a slight wince as he moved his arm. "Can you just take off the chain? And leave the collar?"

Derek watched him closely for a moment, then nodded. "Sure." He unhooked the chain, then slipped the cock ring off of Stiles, tossing it aside. He'd clean all of this later. "Hold on, let me get your ankles." The spreader bar was a little trickier to remove, but Stiles waited patiently as Derek unlocked the mechanism on either side and slid it off.

With all the gear removed, Derek stood up and held out a hand for Stiles. "Come on. I need to make sure you can stand, nothing hurts too much… then I'll carry you to bed."

Stiles shook his head but took the hand, pulling himself up into a wobbly standing position. "Hey, in case you forgot, I'm a grown man. You don't need to carry me anywhere." The soft shake in his voice made the statement less assertive than intended.

Derek rolled his eyes. "Stop fighting me on your aftercare." He ran a hand down each of Stiles' legs, checking for bruises, scrapes, or anything that looked wrong. "Hurt anywhere here?"

"It's like ten feet to the bed, that barely qualifies as aftercare. I'm pretty sure it's more for you than me." Stiles grinned, his tone teasing. "And no, nothing besides some soreness where the straps were. Just normal stuff."

"Good. Let me know if anything changes." Derek gave Stiles a look. "It's ten feet you're not going to walk. Don't argue." He waited to see if Stiles would really put up a fight, but the only further protest he got was a long-suffering sigh, so he slid an arm under Stiles' legs and hoisted him up. Stiles snaked his arms around Derek's neck, nuzzling immediately against his chest.

The walk to the bed _was_ a short one, but when Derek tried to deposit Stiles onto the bed, he found Stiles unwilling to release his hold. "Lay down with me."

"I'm going to, in a minute. I need to get you a warm washcloth."

"Mm-mm." Stiles shook his head, eyes already slipping shut. "We'll just wash your sheets tomorrow."

"You need aspirin, in case you get sore."

"I'll be asleep. Come on, dude." Stiles pushed up enough to press a kiss against Derek's lips. "I'm like, five seconds away from passing out for the rest of the night, and I wanna fall asleep with your arms around me."

It was impossible to argue with that kind of logic. Derek nodded and flicked the light switch on the wall. "Okay. Scoot over." He crawled in beside Stiles, sliding his limbs around the other man and using the edge of the sheet to give his sticky belly a few swipes. "You want me to take the collar off now?"

Stiles turned a little in Derek's arms, looking up at him. "No. Is that okay? I know we usually take it off, but I like how it feels. I don't mean… y'know, physically, just…" He frowned.

Derek felt a jerk in his belly, different from the arousal Stiles inspired in him. "That's fine," he said quietly. "I know what you mean."

Stiles nodded, looking relieved. "Okay." He snuggled back down against the pillow.

Derek rested his head beside Stiles', his eyes on the collar. The thought occurred to him, as it had many times before—if Stiles had always needed pain or if that had come after the nogitsune. All the ways it had changed him were unknowable, even to Stiles himself. But the fact that Stiles trusted Derek to give him what he needed was enough. Someday they might know more about where the need came from, but for now—as Stiles dozed off, his whole body relaxing against the mattress and back into Derek's chest—it didn't matter. He stroked the corners of Stiles' mouth, making him smile in his sleep, and his own eyes slid shut.


End file.
